


Writing you goodbye

by random_firework



Series: Wincest Love Week: 3rd edition (Summer 2016) [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilty Sam, M/M, Pre-Series, Sam Leaves for Stanford, Teen Sam Winchester, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_firework/pseuds/random_firework
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Sam writes to Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing you goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sixth day of the Wincest Love Week: Summer edition. I chose to answer the prompt "Late night confessions".
> 
> The title is inspired by lyrics of the song Love You Goodbye by One Direction.

  _~~Dear~~ Dean,_

 

  Sam put his pen down and looked dejectedly at the trees around him. It was harder than he expected it to be. Two words written – the simplest – and his eyes were already burning. It was Dean. How was he supposed to say goodbye to his brother? It was the person he loved the most in the world, the person that could make him laugh like there was tomorrow, the one around whom he felt the safest, the… The reason he had to go. More than the endless fights with his dad, more than the desire for a normal life, Dean was the reason Sam needed to leave.

 

  _I can’t stay. Not when all I crave is your lips on mine, the heat of your body and your arms holding me close forever. And the worst thing is that I know that if I asked, you would give it to me, like you’ve done with everything else. But it’s not right and you know it too. So I won’t ask you. But I have to leave, then._

Tears were now running free on Sam’s face, but he couldn’t stop himself. Nothing else around him – the hard wooden stairs he was sitting on, the damp summer air making him sweat even in the middle of the night – seemed to exist anymore, as he laid the ugly, dizzying, truth on the paper.

 

  _And it’s not some dumb teenage crush due to hormones. It’s my stomach twisting every time you come home smelling like a girl, it’s my heart giving out when you’re not near me. And the fear when you’re out on a hunt and you don’t call for a couple of days. I love you so fucking much, Dean. ~~I hate you for that.~~ And I hate myself for that._

There it was. The truth. Sam stared at the letter then at the house behind him, where his brother was sleeping soundly, so sure that things were going to be okay. He couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t give him that letter. Though it was the truth, it wouldn’t be fair.

  Sam tore out the sheet of paper and took another one. He turned off all of his senses and wrote without thinking. After he had finished, he stayed there for a moment, looking at the starry night sky, before going back inside. He felt exhausted but strangely calm.

  His feet led him to Dean’s room. His brother was lying with his face turned to the door and he was beautiful with the moonlight softening his features. One of his arms was outstretched, a habit from when they were children so that Sam could reach him from the other bed if he needed to. One last time, Sam reached for that hand.

  “Sammy?”

  “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

  Dean moved to the other side of the bed to make some space for Sam and put back the sheet on both of them, outstretched hand now resting in Sam’s hair.

  Sam didn’t know if Dean was still conscious but he took his chance. He needed to say it anyway. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered against his brother’s chest.

  “Love you too,” Dean murmured back, half asleep.

  Tomorrow, John would come back from his hunt and Sam would leave. But tomorrow was another day. There was still this one last night. And for one last time, Sam fell asleep in his brother’s arms.

 

  **

 

  Dean waited for the Greyhound bus to be gone and out of sight to get back inside the car. Slowly, he unfolded the piece of paper Sam had hurriedly shoved in his hand before climbing the stairs of the bus. He read it several times and, when his eyes were sore and dried out, he put it in his wallet behind a picture of his baby brother.

 

  _Dean,_

_You know why. It’s not your fault. It has never been your fault._

_I’m sorry._

_Take care of yourself._

_Sam_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little work :)  
> Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated!


End file.
